


Unexpected Visitor

by AlexiaBlackbriar13



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: (I said it could be cracky), 5+1 Things, Angst, Breaking and Entering, Cooking, Could be considered as cracky, Don't Judge Me, Established Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, F/M, Heartfelt Talks, Hide and Seek, Hiding in the dark, Humor, Hurt Felicity Smoak, Hurt Oliver Queen, Hurt/Comfort, I hate Darhk so much okay, Lance ships Olicity, Muffins, Oliver seriously freaks Lance out, Post-4x04 Beyond Redemption, We all know this is a running gag now, kidnapped Felicity, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5118278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexiaBlackbriar13/pseuds/AlexiaBlackbriar13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five times Quentin Lance unexpectedly finds Oliver Queen hiding in his dark apartment and the one time he doesn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> Because this is a thing now, and I'm sorry.
> 
> Tumblr: @alexiablackbriar13  
> Twitter: @lexiblackbriar
> 
> Please leave kudos and comment!

**1**

Quentin hated working for Darhk. He hated it. On top of being forced to provide information and open up his police servers to the man, Darhk also had an awful habit of talking to Lance like he was a five-year-old child. It was demeaning and embarrassing as hell and he hated it.

He drove back to his apartment angrily, slamming his hands into the driving wheel furiously every few minutes, but making sure he was sensible as he parked and stormed upstairs. Quentin unlocked his apartment door, grumbling under his breath and he growled a few swear words when the key didn’t turn immediately and he had to kick the door a few times, muttering expletives.

He finally got inside and relocked the door, yanking off his jacket and turning on the light switch. He turned around, planning to grab a small glass of scotch and watch a game on record, but on turning he ended up jumping in shock and fright, hand coming up to grip his chest where his heart was beating a mile a minute.

“One day you’re gonna give me an actual heart attack, Queen!” he snarled, taking in the figure sitting calmly on his couch, looking up at him blankly. “You know, I am actually starting to think you’ve got copies of my keys or something. That, or you’re particularly skilled at breaking in through windows.”

Oliver shrugged, not saying anything and he stood slowly, stretching out. He was dressed casually, in jeans, white t-shirt and Henley, and he looked tired, like Quentin. He had obviously been waiting for him. Shoving past the archer, Quentin marched into his kitchen and grabbed two sodas, deciding that the alcohol wouldn’t do his heart any good. Upon re-entering the living room, he threw Queen one of the sodas and the archer caught it with lightning fast reflexes, but he put it down on the coffee table without opening it, signifying that he wasn’t going to drink it.

“Suppose you want an update on Darhk,” Quentin said bitterly, cracking the top of his soda while collapsing into his single armchair, feeling overly tired. “Well, let me tell you this. He doesn’t tell me anything and he talks to me as if I’m a kid. I got nothing useful for you, Queen.”

“Actually I came to give you your evidence back,” Oliver replied, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out the two small evidence bags that Quentin had given him just this morning. With his police force so short staffed, the captain had decided that he needed Team Green Arrow’s help taking down a human-trafficking group. “Felicity found the warehouse they’re operating from; we’re planning on taking it down tomorrow night, but we’ll need SCPD back-up.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll send some squad cars down your way,” Quentin muttered.

“We’re going to need a little more back-up than some squad cars,” Oliver admitted. “There’s going to be at least forty guys there and if we don’t want any of them to escape, we’re going to need at least two dozen cops watching the perimeter for any runners.” He paused breifly before continuing carefully, “If that’s a problem for tomorrow, we can re-schedule, but we need to do it this week.”

“Oh, it’s a problem, but re-scheduling it is just a stupid idea,” Quentin snapped at him. “We’ve been after those guys for months, we’re not letting them slip through our fingers again. You’ll have the back-up, Queen.”

There was a brief tense silence between them, before Oliver tilted his head sideways, watching the captain observantly and commented, “Hard day?”

“The hardest,” Quentin sighed, rubbing his temples. “Not really in the mood to deal with you today, Queen. I just want to eat something, drink a little, watch some of the game and go to bed.”

Oliver nodded thoughtfully, doing that weird thing that he did where he clasped his hands behind his back. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Quentin repeated.

“Yeah. Okay. If you had a bad day, you had a bad day.” He shrugged. “I understand that. Even I have bad days sometimes. I’ll go. I’ll see you tomorrow. If you have time, come by the Lair for the briefing for the op. There’s a secret elevator in my campaign office that goes down to the Lair and using that will be more efficient for you than using the garage entrance.”

“- Secret elevator?” Quentin repeated. Oliver made to respond, but the captain just closed his eyes and put a hand up to stop him, huffing. “Who am I kidding, it’s you. Should’ve known, you have a flare for dramatics.”

With a smirk gracing his lips, Oliver stepped around the coffee table, inclining his head to say goodbye before quietly heading to open the door. As he did so, Quentin huffed again, twisting his body to lean over and face the archer.

“This thing where I walk in and find you sitting in the dark after breaking into my apartment isn’t going to become a regular thing, is it?” he called, as Oliver opened the door, closing it slightly behind him.

When Oliver looked at him, it was with a grin. “You should get better locks for your fire escape, Captain.” With that, he closed the door, locked it from the outside (Quentin knew that kid had made copies of his keys, he knew it) before leaving the police captain sitting in silence.

* * *

**2**

“The hell are you doing?” Quentin shouted, walking into his dark apartment late at night, nearly midnight, after the most tedious day filing paperwork at the precinct ever, as he found Oliver Queen stirring chicken and vegetables in a frying pan in his kitchen.

“Cooking,” Oliver responded, shooting him a look as if he was stupid, using a wooden spoon to manipulate the food in the pan. “What else could I be doing?” He turned back to his cooking, ignoring Quentin’s disbelieving and stunned face to grab some soy sauce out of one of the kitchen cupboards and some fresh ginger that the captain was pretty sure had come from his fridge. “Do you want noodles or rice?”

“What?” Quentin questioned, still in shock from finding Star City’s resident green vigilante casually cooking in his apartment after breaking into it.

Oliver just shook his head. “You’re right, I shouldn’t even have to ask that question. Noodles it it.”

The archer knelt down to root through his cupboards again, and Quentin lost it. He yanked Oliver up the the arm and shoved him against the wall, poking his chest furiously. Although he knew that if he wanted to, the archer could reverse the situation in seconds, Oliver didn’t react, just gazed at the captain warily.

“Who the hell do you think you are, coming into my apartment, breaking into my apartment and using my kitchen, using my food, to put on your own Masterchef?” Quentin hissed, jabbing his fore finger into Oliver’s chest. “We have a truce, Oliver, we have an alliance, we are not friends, you cannot just come in here and start cooking!”

Oliver was silent for a moment, but then he gave a small smile and said, “You called me Oliver.”

Heaving a sigh, Quentin ran a hand over his face, taking a step back and a moment to calm himself down, taking a few deep breaths to lessen his heart rate. “Why are you here, Queen?”

Oliver finally slumped and he angled his eyes downwards, shoving his hands into his pockets and grimacing, scuffing the floor with his shoe as he leant back against the wall. “Felicity’s on a business trip in Coast City and I don’t like being alone in the Loft. I -” He paused. “It was a bad day and when I got home all I could think about was the fact that I was standing a few metres away from where I found my sister bleeding out from a sword wound in her chest.” He cast his gaze sideways, to where the stir fry was sitting in the frying pan, sizzling every so often. “I’m sorry, I needed a distraction and cooking is my go-to coping activity.”

“And you couldn’t go to Laurel’s? Diggle’s? Anywhere but here?”

A dark look came over the archer’s face and he replied quietly, “Laurel and Diggle were part of the bad day.”

Well damn. Quentin couldn’t very well be angry at Oliver for that. The kid didn’t want to stay alone in the place where his sister got stabbed nearly to death, his team mates’ houses were closed off to him, he needed a distraction and it seemed that Oliver had come to the only place that he thought might accept him.

Besides, he was hungry anyway, and that stir fry smelt good. Casting a glance back around to the frying pan and looking at the contents for a moment, he turned back to Oliver with a blank mask plastered over his face.

“Have you added garlic?” Quentin asked.

Oliver lit up, clicking his fingers. “I knew I forgot something.” He darted under Quentin’s arm and opened the fridge, pulling out some fresh garlic cloves before raiding another cupboard for some noodles. “You can sit down, I’ll do this. You look like you just had the worst day of work ever.”

“Yeah, well,” Quentin rolled his eyes. “Paperwork isn’t exactly enjoyable.”

“Oh, I know,” Oliver nodded, continuing to work. “My mom severely understated how much paperwork needs to be done to officially become a mayoral candidate. I’m lucky Thea and Felicity know how to deal with that sort of stuff by now.”

They didn’t talk after that, just sat in companionable silence, until Oliver got out a single plate, scooped the stir fry onto it, poured a glass of water and set both the plate and glass down in front of Quentin, backing up to fetch cutlery for him.

Quentin looked down at the plate of food confusedly before glancing up at the archer again. “Wait, you made this for me?”

“Sure,” Oliver replied. “I was planning on making cookies as well, but you didn’t have any chocolate chips.”

“Crime against humanity,” Quentin said sarcastically, digging into the stir fry. “Heaven forbid I not have any chocolate chips. I’ve failed the city.” He took a bite of some of the chicken and noodles. “Huh. This is good.”

Oliver grinned. “I know. Felicity says I’m a great cook. I don’t usually like to brag, but I totally am.” He stretched his arms out and cleared away all the spare food he hadn’t used and the used cooking equipement in the sink. Checking his watch, Oliver said, “I should probably go. Felicity’s train arrives in a few hours and I promised her I would have pizza waiting.”

Quentin put his cutlery down slowly and fixed Oliver with a stare. “You literally broke into my apartment to cook for me.” He paused, then, taking a sip of water, he muttered, “This better not become a weekly thing, Queen.”

* * *

**3**

He actually nearly screamed that time. No, really. Quentin managed to strangle it back though so it came out as more of a yelp, but it still announced his astoundment for what he found in his apartment living room. That happened to be Oliver Queen decked out in full Green Arrow gear, sitting on his couch with his feet on the coffee table, scrolling through Twitter on his phone.

“Oh, hey,” Oliver said, quickly removing his feet from the table, shoving his phone away into a random pocket somewhere on his suit and straightening his posture. “It’s only seven, I thought you had a leadership meeting until eight.”

“It ended early,” Quentin choked out, feeling like he was about to fall over. His heartbeat wouldn’t slow down. He swore, one of these days, Oliver was going to kill him. Damn kid with his stealthiness. “Queen - what -” He couldn’t find words. He just waved his hands at the vigilante, silently screaming at him to explain.

“The team are doing a tracking training exercise,” Oliver explained quickly. “We have to try and move through the city undetected and establish a base, then a chosen person has to try and find the rest of the team’s bases using CCTV, traffic cameras and a new algorithm Felicity’s set up. Then they have to go to the base and try and capture them. If they find the base but don’t capture the person, they lose.”

“So essentially, you’re playing vigilante-hide-and-seek,” Quentin said. “And my apartment is your ‘established base’?”

“Yes,” Oliver nodded.

“Why?”

“Laurel’s the person trying to find us, and she would never expect me to hide in her father’s apartment.”

“I need a drink,” Quentin muttered, walking past Oliver shaking his head in disbelief.

“I thought you weren’t drinking anymore,” Oliver responded, following him into the kitchen and standing in the doorway as he watched the captain move about in the space. He had left his bow on the couch.

“Don’t remind me,” Quentin huffed. “I’m trying to pretend you’re not here at the moment, Queen, go and sit back down.”

Oliver smirked. “Don’t you think it’s a little rude to ignore your guests?”

“So help me God, Oliver -” Quentin growled, whipping around to point an accusing finger at the archer, who immediately put his hands up in the surrender position, the smirk not fading. “What if my neighbours saw you?! They’d freak out! You can’t go galavanting around the city in that costume, Queen, are you crazy?!”

“I wasn’t galavanting,” Oliver replied, sounding offended. “And I think I know how to travel around the city without being seen.” The power of the smirk doubled as he leant against the doorframe, crossing his ankles. “Though that expression on that old lady with the ginger hair’s face… priceless.”

Quentin exploded. “You let Mrs Harrold SEE YOU DRESSED LIKE THAT?”

“Calm down,” Oliver rolled his eyes. “No, I didn’t.” He checked his watch. “I’ll only hang about for ten more minutes, by then Laurel would’ve given up, then I’ll get out of your hair.” Quentin growled, turning back around to stir a tea bag into hot water, silently seething. “Well - your metaphorical hair.”

He whipped around, advancing forwards with a hand raised and a finger pointing warningly, but Oliver was grinning, actually grinning, and it wasn’t one of those fake public smiles, it was real, it was sincere, and Quentin realised - the kid didn’t smile for real very often, and Oliver was teasing him - actually teasing him - and he was making jokes, and snide comments, which meant that he trusted the captain enough to ease his barriers. And Oliver didn’t do that with a lot of people. Hardly anybody, if he thought about it properly.

Quentin sighed, releasing his anger and frustration, just throwing his arms up in the air, grabbing his mug of tea and slipping sideways past the archer framed in his kitchen doorway. He sat down in his armchair and drank silently for a few minutes, pointedly ignoring the Green Arrow watching him curiously.

After a few minutes, Quentin shot him a glare and said, “I was going to offer you tea, but after that remark about my hair, you don’t deserve any more than a cracker.”

“I’ll take the cracker,” Oliver said.

“Haven’t got any,” Quentin threw back.

“Yes you do, bottom left hand cupboard.”

“How’d you know that?”

“I re-stocked your kitchen after I made that stir-fry. Figured you wouldn’t appreciate me stealing food to stress-cook, so replaced everything I used.”

Quentin blinked, surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, no, I did. I also debated whether or not I should bake you muffins, but then I decided that’s probably a few steps ahead in our relationship, wouldn’t want to move too fast.” Oliver was still grinning. God, that smile on that kid’s face. Quentin swore he’d never seen the archer in such a good mood. “Don’t worry, after tonight though we’ll have reached that point, so you’ll get muffins.”

“Blueberry, not chocolate,” Quentin replied.

Oliver’s watch beeped, signally that the ten minutes had passed. At exactly the same time, somebody knocked on the apartment door. The captain turned in his seat to glance over at the door, and when he looked back towards Oliver, he was gone, the window was open and the curtains were flapping in the wind.

Standing, and putting his door down, muttering under his breath about how Oliver was obviously crazy and in need of mental help, he opened the door to find Laurel standing there, dressed in her Black Canary costume, chest heaving with exhaustion and hair hanging down into her face. Luckily, none of his neighbours had stuck their heads out of their doors to see what was going on.

“Is he here?” Laurel panted. “Did I get him?”

“Who?” Quentin questioned.

“Oliver!” Laurel practically shouted.

“No, you just missed him. He went out the window.”

“GODDAMMIT.”

* * *

**4**

By this time, after having been surprised so often by finding Oliver in his apartment in the dark, Quentin arrived home each night half-expecting the find the archer waiting for him, sitting in the shadows. Locking the door and turning on the light, he was not, however, expecting to find Felicity Smoak curled up on his couch under a blanket, deeply asleep with Oliver seated on the edge of the couch beside her, one hand rubbing gentle circles onto her hip while he gazed at her softly.

When Quentin turned the light on, immediately Oliver’s head snapped around to look at him and the archer motioned for him to turn it off. Doing so, he nodded at the kitchen and Oliver rose silently, following him inside.

Quentin didn’t even have to ask a question, Oliver just instantly launched into an apologetic explanation, rushing his words out and wringing his hands as if he was anxious. “I’m so sorry, nobody else on the team has any space at their places and we didn’t want to make a spectacle of going to a hotel.”

“Hey, whoa, slow down, kid,” Lance said quietly, raising a hand to stop him, ever aware that Felicity was in the other room sleeping and he didn’t want to wake her up. “What happened?”

Oliver’s eyes darkened in anger. “Darhk,” he spat out. “He sent his ghosts to burn down our apartment building. It didn’t reach the Loft, but half of the residents have lost their homes and the firefighters say it’s too risky to stay there because of the smoke.” He was trembling slightly in his rage as he gritted out, “But you would know all about that, wouldn’t you? You’re working for him.”

Quentin’s eyes widened as he realised what Oliver was accusing him of. “Queen, if I had any idea, any inkling or hint, of Darhk planning to do that, put your life, her life -” he tilted his head over to the living room, “ - in danger, don’t you think I would’ve warned you?”

Oliver deflated in defeat. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Sorry, it’s been a difficult night. John, Lyla and baby Sara just moved into a new apartment and since Thea is living with Laurel now, none of them have any space for Felicity and I, and there were paparazzi everywhere because one of the firefighters leaked on Twitter that Felicity and I lived in that building. We didn’t want to check into a hotel because there would be a one hundred percent chance we would wake up in the morning to find press camped out outside our room.”

Lance nodded understandingly. “Right. You can stay here for the night. Don’t have a guest bedroom though, and there’s only one couch and Felicity’s on that, but I can find an air mattress or something, get a few pillows -”

Oliver managed a weak but sincere smile. “Don’t worry about it. I can sleep on the floor.”

“Queen -” he protested.

“I think we’ve reached the point where you can call me Oliver, Captain,” Oliver smiled. “And really, there’s no need. I slept on the ground on an island for five years with twigs and stones sticking into my back and insects crawling over my feet. I think the floor’s one step up from that.”

“Still, I’ll get you a pillow or something.” Quentin darted away before Oliver could say no again, fetching a spare pillow and when he came back into the living room, he found Oliver leaning against the wall next to the couch Felicity was on, watching her with a smile on his face. He handed the pillow over with a flippant, “Goodnight.”

The next morning, he woke up to find Oliver flipping omelettes and Felicity making coffee. When he said that they could come back and stay anytime, he meant it.

* * *

**5**

Quentin opened his apartment door and cautiously stuck his head through the opening first, looking around his living room space carefully. He didn’t seem to have an unexpected visitor tonight. Shrugging, he stepped into the apartment, locked the door and began rolling his sleeves up, heading towards the kitchen.

Then a hand grabbed the back of his shirt and he was being yanked back, shoved up against the wall with one hand around his throat and the other raised threateningly. Quentin immediately thought it must be a robber looking for cash or maybe a guy angry at the police department and wanting some revenge, but he did not expect at all to find it was Oliver Queen, covered in blood and baring his teeth, his eyes frenzied and wild.

“Where is she?” Oliver growled in his Arrow voice, sounding absolutely furious, so furious that he was about to start dropping bodies again.

“What?” Quentin managed to say, hands coming up to try and pull Oliver’s hands off of his throat.

“Where is she!?”

“Queen, what are you talking about?”

“Felicity!” Oliver shouted. “Where is she? I know Darhk has her! I know he does! You just came back from a meeting with him! So I’ll ask you once more, Captain, and you better answer this time because if you don’t, I won’t even hesitate to start breaking bones, WHERE IS SHE?”

Black spots were beginning to appear in Quentin’s vision as he choked out, “Queen, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I swear, okay, on my life, on Laurel’s life, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t know where Felicity is.”

Oliver glared at him for a moment, directly in the eyes, and Quentin didn’t flinch away, letting the archer view the truth in his eyes. Because he really didn’t know whast Oliver was talking about, he didn’t understand at all, and what had happened to Felicity? Had she gone missing? Why was Oliver covered in blood?

With a snarl of frustration, Oliver pulled away and started pacing angrily around the apartment, kicking angrily at the coffee table. “Dammit!” he practically screamed when he gave a particularly vicious kick to the table.

Massaging his aching throat, Quentin kept a cautious distance from the archer, knowing that any small move could possibly set Oliver off again. “Okay, Oliver, do you want to explain all that blood and why you broke in here to strangle me while interrogating me about your apparently missing girlfriend?”

Oliver continued pacing as he growled, “We were driving home, took a short-cut down a loop road heading around the Glades; van came up on an intersection that must have been going at least double the speed limit, we got hit on the left side. I got knocked out, when I came to, Felicity was gone.”

“And you think this was Darhk, because…?”

Oliver wheeled around with a feral snarl. “Can you think of anybody else who could have done this?”

“Yeah, plenty of people,” Quentin replied, trying to him his tone calm, hoping it would rub off on the younger man. “Felicity’s the CEO of Palmer Tech now, she’s the girlfriend of the only mayoral candidate. She’s perfect bait for anybody wanting to get a pretty high ransom, or anybody wanting to get revenge on you.”

“It was Darhk,” Oliver seethed. “I know it was.” He swayed slightly to the side and had to grip the wall for support, and then Quentin realised that the blood Oliver was covered in was coming from a pretty nasty head wound, and that the archer had pretty deep scratches down his shoulders. “He took her. He took Felicity. He’s going to pay. He’s going to wish he never met me. He’s - he’s -”

Quentin somehow got underneath Oliver’s shoulder in time to keep him upright as the archer’s legs gave out from under him, heaving him over to the couch. “Okay, Oliver, okay, I believe you.” Once he was settled on the couch, he knelt down in front of him and asked, “Have you called your sister? Laurel? Diggle?”

“No,” Oliver rasped, his eyes looking unfocused. “No, there - there wasn’t enough time. Happened - happened three streets away from here on - down on Wellbourne and second. Couldn’t - only thought about getting here.”

“Because you think Darhk did this, connected Darhk to me, decided to come here and give me a good ol’ interrogation, gotcha,” Quentin muttered. “Alright, Queen, I’m going to phone this in, put in a kidnapping report. Keep your phone in your hand, if any ransom demand comes, you tell me straight away.”

“Darhk doesn’t want a ransom,” Oliver whispered, and damn, now he looked like he was about to cry. And like he was going into shock. “He wants me to suffer. He wants me in pain. He took Felicity. He took her. I -” He grew frantic. “What if he kills her? I don’t know what to do without her, I don’t know what I’ll become, who I’ll be, I love her, I - I might not ever see her again and she doesn’t know - she doesn’t -”

Clearly the kid was breaking down, so Quentin pushed him gently back so he was leaning back against the sofa, breathing heavily and shuddering, every so often making gasping, sobbing noises, tears in his eyes. The captain knew that girl meant to world to Oliver and that without her, he would be lost. After fetching the kid a glass of water, an icepack and some gauze for the head wound, Quentin began making calls.

It turned out that Oliver was wrong: Darhk hadn’t been the person orchestrating the kidnapping. In fact, for some reason unfathomable to Quentin, Darhk was furious that somebody had attacked Oliver and Felicity and taken her. Maybe it was an ego thing, Quentin thought, maybe Darhk didn’t like the idea of somebody going after the two people in the city that he was most interested in prodding at and manipulating, but whatever the reason was, it worked in their favour that night, because Darhk said he would immediately look into it.

Diggle, Laurel and Thea reacted in different ways; shocked, horrified, all of them were somewhat angry, but they stayed calm, calm enough for them to realise that Felicity’s tracker was still online and leading them straight to her. Diggle asked where Oliver was, asked if he was going to join them as the Green Arrow to get Felicity back, but when Quentin reported that he was in shock, had a bad head wound and was having a mental break down on his couch, the whole team advised not to let him out of his sight.

Within two hours, Felicity had been rescued. Turned out it was just some kids wanting to make some money; apparently they had sent a ransom note just as Team Green Arrow had arrived, sans Green Arrow, to rescue Felicity.

Quentin had felt a little choked up with emotion at the sight of Felicity and Oliver reuniting with a passionate embrace, though he quickly became disgusted because they started a heated make-out session in the middle of his living room, which he did not enjoy being forced to watch, thank you very much.

“Thank you for looking after him, Quentin,” Felicity whispered, as Oliver gathered his coat and threw away the used gauze.

“Yeah, well,” the captain replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just try not to get kidnapped again, you hear me, Miss Smoak? He won’t admit it, but the kid doesn’t exactly function very well when you’re missing.”

“Oh, I know,” Felicity smiled softly. Then she winked. “If you find a basket of muffins outside your apartment door tomorrow morning, you know who they’re from.”

Felicity and Oliver left and the next morning, Quentin found a basket filled with exactly fifty two muffins, some blueberry, some white chocolate and raspberry and some lemon and poppy seed.

The note inside said: Let’s hope we never get a repeat of last night ever again. OQ.

“You and me both, kid,” Quentin murmured, as he picked up the basket and headed back inside. “You and me, both.”

* * *

**+1**

Quentin was met with the weirdest sight as he turned the corner on the corridor leading to his apartment. It was so weird, that he stopped in his tracks and stared, for pretty much a few minutes, unable to find words.

Because Oliver Queen was waiting outside his apartment.

He was leaning against the wall, obviously waiting - _ohmygod, he’s waiting OUTSIDE the apartment_ \- for Quentin to return home and on seeing him, the archer straightened and pushed away from the wall, standing with his hands in his suit pockets because he was dressed in a classic black Armani suit, looking nervous.

“Er,” Quentin said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Hi, Mr Lance,” Oliver greeted him, shuffling. “Um, do you mind if I come in? I need to talk to you about - something.”

Quentin blinked. “You’re asking permission? What, you find those new locks I put on the window and fire escape and figured you couldn’t crack them? You lose your copy of the door key?”

Oliver shifted again, lowering his eyes. Quentin narrowed his eyes at him, but moved past to unlock his door, opening it and motioning for Oliver to get inside. Oliver entered quickly, but he didn’t sit straight away, instead he stayed standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, looking out of his element.

“So…” Quentin prompted.

“I need your help,” Oliver blurted out.

“You need… my help?” the captain repeated, puzzled. “With… what, exactly?”

“It’s - it’s not exactly help, per say,” Oliver said, his thumbs rubbing his forefingers in an obvious nervous tick (Quentin reckoned it was actually a PTSD thing, but he dared not say that aloud).

Quentin rolled his eyes. “Just get it out, Queen.”

“IwanttoproposetoFelicitybutIwantyourblessingfirst,” Oliver rushed out all in one mouthful, then he froze and did probably the best deer in headlights expression Quentin had ever seen.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” Quentin responded, frowning.

Oliver took a deep breath and said, a lot more slowly, wringing his hands, “I want to propose to Felicity but I, er, I want your blessing first. I mean, I feel like I should ask for your blessing first. Before asking her.”

Silence. Quentin stared at him, practically gaping. Oliver blinked a few times.

After a moment or two, Oliver shook his head, muttering, “I don’t know what I was thinking of, I’ll just go, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you or -”

“Yes,” Quentin interrupted.

Oliver swallowed. “Yes?”

“Yes, you - you have my blessing - not that it means much,” Quentin continued. “I’m not exactly Felicity’s father, Oliver. Or your father, for that matter.”

Oliver nodded, then inhaled a shuddering breath and began, a little warily, “I - I haven’t told many people this. Felicity and Thea know but nobody else does and -” He set his shoulders, seemingly steeling himself. “My father made it off the Queen’s Gambit with me. He pulled me onto a life raft with him and another crew member and we drifted for days. In the end, there wasn’t enough food or water for all three of us, so my dad pulled out a gun, shot the crew member and then himself in the head after telling me I needed to survive and make it home to right his wrongs.” He paused and took another deep breath. “When I came back from the island, I was lost. I was so fixated on striking names off of my father’s list that I pushed away my family, I pushed away my friends… and I’m going to confess, during that first year, I viewed you simply as a nuisance, somebody who would get in the way. But then after the Undertaking, after Tommy… died, I -” He closed his eyes. “I needed somebody to look up to. I needed somebody with authority, and strength. I needed a father figure. You were that father figure.”

“Oliver…” Quentin murmured, taken back.

“No, please, just… let me finish,” Oliver pleaded. “I’ve always looked up to you. Even when I was a scrappy kid, I looked up to you. My father was distant, I realise that now; he was too busy with business to focus on Thea and I. You gave me advice as a kid; you bought me my first baseball cap, you taught me how to tie a bowtie, you even took Tommy, Thea and I trick-or-treating with Laurel and Sara every year. You’re a good man, Mr Lance. You were the kind of person that I aspired to be. That I still aspire to be. So when I ask for your blessing to marry Felicity, I’m not asking as the boy who dated both your daughters, as the Green Arrow or as a mayoral candidate. I’m asking as a son.”

He was stunned, shocked beyond belief. Then, because he couldn’t think of anything else to do, he reached forwards and pulled Oliver into a hug. At first, the archer tensed, but then he seemed to melt into it, accepting it.

When Quentin pulled back, he angrily swiped at his face to remove any traces of tears that might have been there. “My answer’s still yes,” he said. “You have my blessing to propose to Felicity. But I better be invited to the wedding, goddammit.”

Oliver gave him the most brilliant smile. “Of course. And between you and me, I think if Felicity accepts -”

“When she accepts,” Quentin corrected. “Don’t fool yourself, kid, she’s going to say yes without question.”

“Okay, when she accepts,” Oliver amended, rolling his eyes, “She’s probably going to ask you to walk her down the aisle.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Wait, wait -” the captain held up a finger. “Why are you dressed like that?” His eyes widened. “Jesus, are you going to propose tonight?”

“What?” Oliver looked down at himself, before looking back up and shaking his head. “Oh, no, I just had some official campaign pictures taken for the website. No proposal tonight. Although, orignally, there was going to be one a few months ago.”

“What? Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Planned the whole evening out. I’m a little bit of a control freak,” Oliver admitted. “Romantic home-cooked dinner, souffles, candles, music, the whole lot. I put the ring in the whipped cream of one of the souffles.”

“What happened?”

“My ex-girlfriend and sister turned up.”

“Ouch.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave kudos and comment!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Out of the Clear Blue Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7220845) by [thatmasquedgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatmasquedgirl/pseuds/thatmasquedgirl)




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